Here we are with a new chapter, going back to Frank's perspective. Hints about the future are hidden within the text, so keep your eyes peeled and get busy creating wild theories and keep the reviews coming! Thanks to Magikarp Master for editing and Zogg and Spiraea for the reviews. And without further ado…

Chapter 32: The Cold Truth

The Haven House in Firnborn City became a busy and successful place fairly shortly after being erected, and it wasn't hard to see why. Because the town was host to Skitrex's ice-type gym leader and company, there were quite a few trainers who came to the city, lost several gym battles, and were then left flat out of luck and out of money. The organization had taken in seventy-five young trainers since setting up shop, training some and giving jobs and housing to the others. Truly, the Haven House was doing a superb job following through with its goal.

There were still a few problems that had persisted. From the get go, getting a building or even a place to build from the ground up was difficult, given the high property value. Because Firnborn City was located so closely to the Arcticuno's nesting mountain, it was always full of tourists who came in from all over Skitrex and beyond to go skiing, vacationing, to watch high tiered gym battles, and to see the beautiful ice bird fly over her domain. Therefore, property was expensive. But even after Ideal Imports provided the sub-division of the organization with money to purchase the building, other problems arose, namely involving the town itself. The elected officials did not like the housing units of the Haven House, which were promoted citywide. They believed that such promotions of housing for the poor devalued the city that they worked so hard to advertise. "Why would people want to come to a city that is defined by its charity handouts and a mass of freeloaders walking the streets? The current population will only be a discredit to the atmosphere" an elected official argued. Places of business weren't so happy either. The hotels and motels already had to compete with pokemon centers that offered free housing (even on a limited basis), but now they had to compete with Haven as well. Restaurants were not all that happy about the organization either, now that some trainers went to Haven for a free meal rather than paying for their overpriced food. In the end though, these were just annoyances, as the Haven House had only received a few threatening letters and nothing more.

All and all, Frank did enjoy being in Firnborn. He wasn't making a whole lot of money (which sucked, given how expensive everything in the city was), but given that he got free food and a free bed, that didn't matter so much, aside from paying to support Isaac's coffee addiction. Plus, he didn't mind the cold, the scenery was beautiful, and sometimes, he could see the Arcticuno flying off in the distance from his window. Helping people and living in a winter wonderland was the perfect life for him.

[So bored…] Isaac whined. The Mr. Mime looked like a deflated balloon in his current position, collapsed in an old armchair. [Can't we go buy an Xbox or something?]

"Why, so you can get bored of that too?" Frank chuckled, putting his book down to look over at his pokemon. Unlike Isaac, the other two pokemon seemed content with their day off. Wendy the Masquerain was hanging on the wall, content with her sleep. His newest pokemon, Maxwell the Buizel, was curled up near the space heater. Frank had found the poor sea weasel pokemon abandoned in Tempest Valley, and adopted him when his trainer could not be found. While a decent battling pokemon, Maxwell seemed to have general anxiety among people and much larger pokemon. According to the nurses who treated him that night, the pokemon was likely abused. However, the Buizel seemed rather content with his life now.

[Well, I'd be interested in it longer than these books,] the mime groaned, holding his book up for his trainer to see. [Your friend across the hall lent me this novel. Just another trashy romance piece of crap. I think I'd rather ladle soup during my down time.] When seeing the evil look that Frank was suddenly giving him, Isaac retracted that last sentence. [Don't even think about it.]

"As much as I would love to play videogames with you, we don't have the money. We don't even have a TV other than the one in the common room." Frank started to feel a little guilty. Isaac was quite the complainer, but a pokemon like himself did need more mental stimulation than most other pokemon and some people. "It's Sunday, so we'll visit the library tomorrow when it's open. But until then, can't you just enjoy the day off like the other two?" he asked, referencing the other two pokemon in the room.

Isaac rolled his eyes. [I love sleeping on the floor next to the heater as much as the next guy, but unlike the rest of you, I don't like taking a day off from thinking. Seriously, why don't we do anything anymore? Why don't YOU do anything anymore? You're either working or sleeping. When was the last time we saw a movie? When was the last time you've been on a date? You ever look for that special woman anymore? … or man? I don't judge.]

"Ha ha," Frank laughed sarcastically, though he did have to admit that the idea of going out on a date did sound like a fun change of pace. Come to think of it, he thought, I haven't been on a date in over a year. Can't even remember the name of the last girl I slept with… wow, Isaac is right. The problem was that he felt nervous about dating at the moment, given his association with the organization. Some of the members he was friends with were dating people on the outside, but given the information he knew, he was slightly afraid he would give too much important information away. There were some of the women he worked with, but he knew that dating a co-worker could cause unwanted drama. Still, it wasn't an option he completely ruled out.

"Tell you what, Isaac," he began again, stretching back in his bed again, "there's a new girl here that arrived yesterday and seventeen or so. She has a Jynx. How about a double date? Would that work for you?"

[A Jynx? Really?] the Mr. Mime telepathically groaned. [I've never met a Jynx that wasn't a complete ditz. I don't-] Isaac stopped midsentence, noticing Frank rolling his eyes again. Suddenly, he felt kind of bad. As much as he loved giving Frank, his trainer and partner in crime, the business, he knew that Frank was at least trying. [You know what, that would be alright, Frank.]

"I'm glad you think so," the trainer laughed. He was about to lie back down on the bed when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in!" he called back.

A redheaded man about his age opened the door and immediately started talking. "Frank, Paulson wants you downstairs for some work. He didn't tell me what it was, but by the looks of things, their going outside. You better put on a coat."

"Really Connor?" Frank groaned wearily. "It's my day off. Paulson knows it. He couldn't-"

"You want to take that up with Paulson?" the other man asked.

Remembering who his current boss was, Frank didn't have to think twice about that. He looked over at his Mr. Mime and made a weak grin. "It looks like we got something to do now."

There was a good reason why Frank didn't openly question Tyrone Paulson's decision to call him to work on his day off: the man was an intimidating beast. Not in his personality (for he was usually stoic and spoke with a firm, yet calm voice), but physically speaking, Paulson had the build of a Greek god. The man stood at six foot four, and he was built like a tank, being purely composed of muscle. In his early twenties, he had taken the world of mixed martial arts by storm, physically dominating all competitors in the cage with his brute strength and knowledge of martial arts. It was an awful tragedy however, when after winning the SHC Championship, the man came down with a serious staph infection, forcing him to relinquish the belt.

After suffering and overcoming the infection though, Tyrone's spirit seemed doused, as he had lost interest in competing in the cage. Rather, he retired early and devoted time to training young MMA competitors. He even branched into pokemon, becoming a trainer and teaching his pokemon martial arts. But rather than training pokemon like those in the Machop family (all of which are naturally able to learn martial arts), he focused on different pokemon. His star pupil: a Primeape. This was truly incredible, as members of the Mankey family were generally known for their uncontrollable rage, a trait that was rarely suppressed through training. But through a disciplined training regime, frequent meditation, and a large amount of commitment from Paulson himself, the Primeape learned to control his rage. When he wasn't fighting, the pig monkey pokemon seemed oddly calm. But in battle, the pokemon used various forms of martial arts, combined with his rage that he let loose in increments. He was so well trained, that when he thrashed about in common Primape form, he kept himself from becoming fatigued or losing control.

Tyrone Paulson's ability as a trainer (of both people and pokemon) and the large donations of his fortune that he made towards organizations such as WHO and the Red Cross caught Father Ezekiel's attention. The former fighter accepted the Father's invitation, working publicly with Haven Houses as a donor and a lead organizer, but behind the scenes, he was recognized as an elite trainer and one of Father Ezekiel's three apprentices. Of this position, he rarely spoke of with anybody.

"By now, you're probably wondering why I've called you out to come with us on your day off," the large man asked as he slowly made his trek through the Frostscar valleys, deep below the towering, icy mountains. He led a small group of his chosen trainers, each of which had a team of six strong pokemon with them. Behind the line was a brutish looking Mamoswine that was carrying various supplies and equipment. In the frosty environment, the pokemon made a great pack mule, given its adaptation to the snow. Frank couldn't help but feel like the odd man out in this expedition.

"A little bit," Frank admitted, embracing himself tightly to keep warm. Even with his thick coat and hat, the air chilled his entire body. He looked over at Isaac, who was also wearing a coat and hat, but was putting up a little force field around himself to reduce the wind-chill. He had been covering his trainer too, but now limited the bubble to himself, given how tiring holding up a barrier could get.

"I'm surprised you haven't complained yet," Frank muttered to his pokemon.

[This is so much better than sitting back at the base with our thumbs up our asses,] the mime messaged him with a grin.

"As you know," Paulson continued, his voice still firm in the freezing cold, "archeologists, scholars, and several mythologists have determined that an ancient legendary pokemon resides or has resided in these mountains long ago, one that predates the Arcticuno that flies above us and her ancestors that have lived here. Texts have described this ancient pokemon as a relentless bringer of ice storms, and since there is enough evidence in these ancient texts to suggest that there is a Regice living in Skitrex, we believe that this is not a coincidence. A week ago, we discovered the entrance to some ancient ruins that may hold said pokemon. These ruins have been untouched for millennia, which would make sense as a possible location for Regice, given that a pokemon such as Regice would not need to leave for food. We could have blown up the ruins to gain entrance; we have enough explosives packed on the Mamoswine to do it if we have to. But since Father Ezekiel would hate it if we destroyed ancient artifacts and locations, we gathered the correct 'supplies' to gain entrance in a less explosive manner. Once inside, we'll overpower the ancient pokemon and capture it in this."

The dark skinned man held up a purple colored pokeball that Frank recognized as a Master Ball: a pokeball that was created by the Silph Co., specifically for catching legendary pokemon, since most legends had enough energy contained in their bodies to escape standard grade pokeballs, even when fainted. But from what Frank had heard, legendary pokemon were capable of escaping the Master Ball by breaking the capture before the ball could close completely. They would have to knock the monster in question out first. Masterballs were so powerful and difficult to make however, that Silph co. only gave them out to professors and certain trainers that they deemed trustworthy. Such a device in the wrong hands could lead to disastrous results. Frank wondered how Father Ezekiel even managed to get his hands on one… aside from the one that he was rewarded with back in '92 for his research on Moltres. Maybe that was the very Master Ball? Or perhaps Isaac was correct about delivering a pokeball to Father Ezekiel that may have been a Master Ball.

"If there is a Regice here, can we even overcome it?" Frank asked, knowing that legendary pokemon were dangerous in their own right.

"My elite have fire pokemon with them. I have my own team as well. Victory is guaranteed," Paulson answered, showing no hesitation in his voice. "Of course, you're still wondering why you're here. You are hardly an outstanding trainer or a key to our success…"

"Rubbing it in much?" Frank chuckled awkwardly in response, though he instantly became nervous. Tyrone Paulson didn't joke. However, the man seemed not to care about Frank's quip.

"Father Ezekiel likes you," Paulson replied, giving no real indication of his opinion on the matter. "You've recruited more individuals to our cause than any individual member, and your service has been noticed. He plans to bring you into his inner circle of disciples. Not as an apprentice, but as our human relations person. Because he wants you as a part of his circle, he has decided to share the experiences of our plan with you. Make sense?"

"Sure," Frank agreed, though he was not so sure about how seeing a Regice would help him in the organization. Still, the experience was not one he would pass up. "What are we going to do with this thing when we catch it?"

"Father Ezekiel will use it at a later date as a part of our goals," Paulson answered cryptically. "For now though, it will require training so that it can be used as an asset on the battlefield. I believe his grandson expressed interest in training it. It's a good fit to be honest: a cold pokemon for a cold trainer like-" Paulson stopped suddenly, his eyes showing a small glimmer. "We're here."

In front of the group was the base of one of the many Frostscar Mountains, though this one had an ancient looking doorway at its base, surrounded by rubble. The doorway was covered in ancient symbols like the ones that were in Father Ezekiel's book that Frank had briefly seen. When looking down at his feet, Frank noticed that they were standing on an old stone path, though he could only see traces of it through the ice and snow.

"I can't believe nobody found this before us," Frank said out loud. They were deep within the mountains after several hours of walking, but even then, ancient temples such as these were not something that people would just glance over.

"We pinpointed several potential locations by those ancient maps we were given a few months ago," one of Paulson's elite trainers told him, his demeanor matching his boss's. "We went to said locations and melted all of the glacier snow that had built up over the years with our fire pokemon. That's actually illegal out here, but nobody is watching this deep in the mountains."

The expedition party entered through the ancient doorway into a dark room that seemed to be colder than the outside. With no wasted motions, Paulson's elite trainers lit up several lanterns and placed them throughout the room. Frank now gazed at the walls, letting the feeling of awe rush over him as he scanned over the beautiful letting and ancient carvings that decorated the room. The pictures, while primitive, were beautiful and looked as if they took the hand of a delicate artist to create, given their detail.

"Fire pokemon at the ready," Paulson ordered, raising his voice for the first time in Frank's memory. All six of the trainers released one pokemon a piece: a Charizard, a Marcargo, a Camerupt, a Simisear, a Ninetales, and a Flareon. Paulson himself released his Typhlosion; an intimidating pokemon that barely reached his trainer's shoulders. Frank looked over to see Isaac step to his side. He smiled at his partner's protectiveness. Even in the face of a legendary, his Mr. Mime was not about to leave his side.

"Now… for the finishing touch," Paulson said out loud, pulling a few extra pokeballs from a pouch that hung from the Mamoswine's side. He tossed all three of them into the open and from the light sprung several tiny, black pokemon pokemon, their bodies forming different designs. Each of them hummed a slightly different note as they began to float about.

Frank instantly recognized the pokemon as being Unown. He had gotten quite used to seeing them as of late, ever since more of the organization's research parties were being sent to raid ancient temples and holy grounds around the globe where these pokemon tended to flock in almost limitless numbers. Many of the mysterious pokemon were captured and given to recruits, being that they were relatively simple to train, didn't require food, were exceptionally loyal, and would defend their trainers in situations that required self-defense or attack. However, most Unown were weak, only being able to fight with basic energy attacks, though they were still valued as being powerful in groups. These pokemon had other properties that made them useful, or so Father Ezekiel said, though he refused to explain what these properties. That man could never give a straight answer about anything, it seemed.

"Frank, come here," Paulson called out. Frank took a few steps closer, and began to make out the shapes of the Unown. He was confused to see that they were unfamiliar to him. Most of the Unown tended to resemble letters of the alphabet or punctuation marks, but these specimens looked absolutely foreign in design.

Paulson seemed to understand Frank's confusion and answered the unasked question. "Unown are strangely connected to human language," he began to explain. "They tend to form in the shape of the lettering of the language they spawned near. If you go to ruins in Russia, the Unown there will resemble the Russian alphabet. In China, they resemble Chinese characters. The Unown you see here are incredibly rare, as they represent Pocraise lettering, a language that has been forgotten by all except scholars and sages. Together, these three pokemon spell out 'Vha Ise Morovo,' or 'The Eternal Snow'. They were especially hard to collect, given that these three Unown belonged to individual trainers not associated with us, but we managed to collect them via trades, gifts, and other means when necessarily," Paulson added shadily. Frank knew better than to ask for details on the "other means." "You see, these ruins can be opened by the correct Unown entering the keyholes on the door. Like so…"

Tyrone Paulson pointed at the door, and without hesitation, the Unown flew to their respective holes on the wall, fitting like gloves. Suddenly, the pokemon began to glow a dark bluish light as the door began to make a creaking noise of rock rubbing against rock. Slowly the door began to shift to the right, revealing the inner sanctum of the ruined temple. As it moved, each man, woman, and pokemon in the room felt a cold gust of air hit their bodies, causing all of them to shiver (including the fire pokemon themselves.) But all eight trainers and their pokemon remained very still until the door stopped moving and the Unown returned to Paulson's side. Then, Paulson took a lantern in hand and led his team into the room.

"It's empty…" One of Paulson's elite stated emptily, her voice bouncing off the walls. Truly, the room was barren. While the walls had intricate writing on them like the last room, the room itself was as empty as a Gengar's heart, save the large, icy stalactite that had reached the ground in the room's center.

[What a letdown. I wanted to fight something,] Isaac sighed, falling into a slump.

"Because you could totally fight a Regice and win," Frank replied, stifling his laughter so that he wouldn't upset any of the other trainers.

[Let me dream,] the mime replied sourly. He started towards the door when Paulson's voice boomed throughout the room.

"There is something here." He held his lantern to the joined stalactite and stalagmite, resulting in a resounding gasp. Within the ice was some sort of creature. It was no Regice, but a pokemon trapped in the ice was frightening to look at nonetheless. Looking at the pokemon through the ice that the light shown through, the monster they saw looked to be about ten feet tall, having a wide girth, and a shaggy face, whose mouth was open in mid-roar when the ice had frozen over it. It was also notable that the beast had his arms thrown up in the air upon being frozen into an oversized popsicle. Though other details were difficult to make out, one of the trainers identified what the group was looking at.

"Is that… an Abomasnow?" one of them asked. Paulson tilted his head after hearing the response.

"Not a modern day one," the dark-skinned man answered, his eyes not moving from the frozen pokemon he stared at. "The jaw structure is much wider, and the rest of its face is ridiculously exaggerated in comparison to a modern day species and its variants, at least from the pictures I've seen. I'm no paleontologist, but I'd say that this is an ancestor to the modern day Abomasnow. Not what we were looking for, but an interesting find nonetheless."

"You've got to be kidding me," one of the trainers groaned, visibly exasperated. "We did all this searching and for what? Some dead pokemon in cave? Why does this thing even have a cave with all this writing all over it anyway? Fucking ridiculous. I-" The trainer suddenly stopped when Paulson shot him a glare that made the ice on the floor look by comparison.

"Despite all the pine trees, no record of the Snover line has ever been found in Skitrex," Paulson began to explain to his disappointed crew. "This Abomasnow must have wandered in from another land, and if it is anything like the modern day species, perhaps it has the ability to alter the air pressure to influence snowstorms. The ancient people of these parts may have worshipped it as a god or feared it as one, leading them to build it this temple… or prison… Why it is frozen in here is beyond me. We'll have to bring in a scholar and an anthropologist to answer those questions. Until then, we'll report back to base and contact the Father on our findings and wait for further instruction." The tall former fighter stretched his head closer to look into the pokemon's frozen eyes. "For all we know, this thing might still be alive."

"Should we thaw the thing out?" one of the trainers asked, his Charizard standing in position to open fire on the target.

Paulson shook his head. "Negative. Whether it's alive or dead, we don't want to damage it. Even if it is dead, the Father would still like to have it unharmed. Unfortunately, I do not know how to go about extraction of such a specimen, so we'll leave it be for now. When everybody is out, Jordan, I want your Mamoswine to cause a small avalanche outside the doorway. We don't want anybody else coming and finding our prize. For now, everybody out."

The trainers and their pokemon began to leave the room, each with a face more saddened than the last. Frank and Isaac were the last in line to leave, but Paulson stopped them, holding his big hand out to signal their stop.

"I guess this trip was a failure," Frank sighed, his breath flowing from his mouth in a visible form.

"No," Paulson answered sternly and stoically. "We never fail. Regice is somewhere in Skitrex. We just know that it's probably not in these mountains. A shame, really, but we will continue our search. But even though we did not find what we were searching for, we found this." He motioned back towards the proto-Abomasnow; frozen in time. "We will use it to our advantage. When you join the inner circle of Father Ezekiel's disciples, you will learn more about how we can turn anything into an advantage. This ancient pokemon… we will find a way for it to aid us. Perhaps we will sell it to a collector to aid our conquest. Maybe we will resurrect it and use it in battle. Whatever the case, we will find a use for this unintended treasure." He paused, his eyes turning a deeper shade of serious. "And like always, not a word about what you have seen today to anybody outside of today's, even within the organization. As Father Ezekiel has said many times before, secrets can give a person or people power. For now, you will say nothing. Consequences exist for those who not follow the orders they are given. But you understand that already, right?"

"I always have," Frank answered, his eyes lowering in subordination. He knew that there were still many secrets. So much he didn't understand… he wanted to know it all. For while he knew in his heart that he was helping people, the organization was still riddled in mystery… and for the first time in a while, that really bothered him.

[So we're really going to the library tomorrow?], Issac pestered his trainer.

"Yeah, yeah, sure…" Frank said, not drawing his eyes from the window. His vision slowly trailed the lovely Arcticuno that flew by, her shadow contrasting with the setting sun. Everything the legendary bird of ice did seemed to be filled with grace and majesty. The very flapping of her wings was so fluid in appearance that it looked to be aesthetic rather than useful for flying, if that made any sense. Still, the longer he stared at her, the more bothered he became.

[Good. I need something challenging,] the mime continued, ignoring his trainer's discomfort. [A philosophy book or something would be nice. No, a book in a different language. I got time. Might as well learn French. It would be so cool if we got transferred to a different country, don't you-] The mime finally saw that something was wrong with his trainer, and his concern grew. [What are you looking at?]

"Her," Frank answered idly, not looking back.

The Mr. Mime a loud sigh, using his real voice instead of his telepathic one. [Why? This is what I don't understand about humans: why do you care so much about pokemon like her? What is so great about her anyway? I get that she's rare, but she's the exact same bird that she was yesterday. Why are you so interested? It's not like she's going anywhere.]

"That's the thing," Frank began to elaborate. "Her species is almost extinct. She's only left these mountains once to search for a mate, and since she never laid an egg, she obviously wasn't successful in finding one. So why does she stay here? I know they can only lay one egg every few decades or whatever, but what if she never finds a male? I know there's a male living in northern Canada, so why doesn't she go live with him until her next cycle comes up, guaranteeing her an egg? What if something happens to her before it's too late? Poachers, disease, old age… Arcticuno supposedly have human level intelligence, so what keeps her here? Why doesn't she embrace her freedom? Why does she stay here?"

[Hmm…] Isaac now joined his trainer's side, putting a gloved hand on his trainer's shoulder. [That's not something I can answer, Frank. There are a lot of possibilities. Maybe Arcticuno don't do well in flocks like Pidgey do. Maybe there is enough food here that she doesn't have to leave and by living with another Arcticuno, she'd have less. Maybe this Arcticuno in particular likes her solitude. Maybe she's not as worried like you are. Or maybe… maybe she just feels like this is where she needs to be.]

Frank looked over, quizzically, at that last possibility. "What do you mean by that?"

[Maybe she just belongs here and that's just it,] he reiterated. Yawning, he turned to his bed. [I'm going to sleep. When you're done questioning the natural order of things, turn the light off.]

"Sure…" he responded dully. For now, all he could do was remember the day's events, rethink over Isaac's words, and stare at the bird that flew above the mountains. Where she belongs… trapped in something greater than her, following the ebb and flow of fate… He couldn't understand why Isaac would try to boil down a complex question of why an Arcticuno would live alone into such a simplistic answer. Yet, that was how he felt now: he was deep within the organization as he had wished to, but as he gained power, he felt as though he was losing it too. So many secrets were still at large: why did the organization want a Regice so badly? Why did Father Ezekiel want to talk with traveling trainer so desperately that he was willing to send snatchers after him? What was with the mass distribution of Unown? What were the powers that they had that would make them so important besides opening ancient doors? What was the goal in the big picture of the superior one? And where was Frank in that picture, now that he was so entwined within it? He suddenly felt about as "free" as the legendary bird in the Frostscar Mountains that seemed to be constrained to these mountains by her nature alone. And now, reviewing his situation, he was beginning to see that that was something that he couldn't change.